


Of Monsters And Men

by pseudonymouse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Founders fic, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 15:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudonymouse/pseuds/pseudonymouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning home from a long and dangerous journey, Godric's sleep is plagued with nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Monsters And Men

It is not long after he returns that he starts going to her. Most nights he wakes cold, his tunic soaked through with sweat, shaking. He can see them all, clear as day, every body, every home burned to the ground, every frightened whisper as he drew the survivors to safety. And in every village they went to it was just the same. People, his people, being snatched from their homes and families to be burned in the streets as heretics, just for being born as they were…with magic. 

And in those moments he wants to jump out of his bones with sorrow and grief and guilt. Eventually he tried to think of a reason why. Why her? Because Salazar would be too entrenched in his hatred of muggles to listen? Because Rowena, though wise, was fortunate enough to have never seen such horrors? He knows now, what Helga has seen, what she has escaped, and now that he has laid eyes on it he doesn't know how she keeps her disposition. Maybe she doesn't, he thinks, maybe that's why whenever he pads silently across the castle, his auburn curls drying sticky to his head, knocks on her chamber door, waits for her silent invitation, and enters, she is always there. She is always there in her gown, her curls braided and pulled over one shoulder, her sweet face, so open and kind, eyes bright as if sleep had never touched them. He thinks she has learned to avoid sleep, he doesn't know how, but he thinks her dreams are plagued with monsters just like his, he doesn't know if that makes him feel better or worse. 

He goes to her, shutting the door quietly behind him, a ghost of a smile plays around the corners of her mouth, but her eyes seem sad. He doesn't utter a word, just climbs into her bed, the rustle of the sheets releasing a sweet smell of honeysuckle and lavender, he takes in a small sigh, he has become accustomed to it and immediately starts to feel at ease. Settling between her soft splayed thighs, he lays his head against her chest, listening to the steady heartbeat, he relishes the feel of her smooth skin against his cheek. For a moment he hopes he is not hurting her, crushing her with his weight, marring her skin with the more than pronounced beginnings of a beard on his face. He hopes he is not hurting her, selfishly forcing her to remember the pain of leaving her old home, her old life. 

But every time he comes to her, she welcomes him, and wraps him up with arms and legs, and all his demons fall away. Once his breathing has slowed, she runs a soothing hand though his damp hair, kisses the crown of his head, tightens the protective arm around his chest, lets out a soft breath, and they allow themselves to melt slowly into sleep.


End file.
